


A Slip Of Control (There's No Going Back)

by DobbyRocksSocks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amputee Charlie, Animal Abuse Makes Charlie Angry, Army Veteran Charlie, Cop Draco, M/M, Murder, Poor Draco, Violence, animal abuse mentioned, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22758760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DobbyRocksSocks/pseuds/DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: He didn't mean for it to happen. Not the first time, anyway. Serial Killer!AU
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Charlie Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54





	A Slip Of Control (There's No Going Back)

_ It was a mess. Gunfire deafened him as he ran for cover, pulling his squadmates with him. Two had already fallen to bullets, their eyes staring blankly towards the sky, the life already torn from them.  _

_ Charlie wasn’t sure how this had even happened. It was supposed to have been a simple mission, checking land close to the barracks for signs of activity from unfriendlies. This was never supposed to have been a mission that could end with such devastating results.  _

_ His thoughts only on getting to safety, Charlie didn’t realise immediately when he triggered a landmine. The shouts of his squad to run, to move, to get away, confused him, and he paused a second too long.  _

_ Heat, the bright red of flames, and pain were the last things Charlie knew.  _

_ …  _

Draco hated flying. He hated airports. He hated baggage security, and people trying to make nonsensical conversation, and he hated that his husband was currently being operated on across the world and he had no idea what was going on. 

The call had come the day before, the warning that Charlie might not make it home from the war he’d been so eager to fight in. Draco had begged him not to enlist, but Charlie had been so sure that it was what he wanted. 

To make a difference in the world. 

Draco knew it was unfair to be mad at Charlie for that, knew that it was unreasonable to be angry with him for putting himself in the situation for this to have happened, but he couldn’t help it. 

Anger was easier to deal with than the fear that Charlie might not ever make it home. 

Thankfully, Draco had been able to book a flight for the very next day, and thankfully, it would only be a few more short hours before he arrived at the hospital. 

Maybe he’d be able to breath properly, when he saw Charlie’s own chest moving up and down as his lungs contracted with proof of his continued existence. 

… 

Fire. 

That was Charlie’s first bleary thought as he slowly gained awareness. His right leg felt like it was on fire. It burned, bright and painful, and Charlie shifted uncomfortably as he blinked his eyes open. 

The light was blinding, and he quickly closed them again, groaning quietly. 

Something to his left moved, and he felt the hand wrapped around his own squeeze tightly. Huh. He hadn’t even realised someone was holding his hand. He forced himself to open his eyes again, and turned his head. 

The last person he’d expected to see was his husband staring back, tears making the stormy grey eyes sparkle in the light. 

“What are you doing here?” he managed to ask, his voice throaty and rough. 

Draco didn’t answer, instead offering up a straw that he’d put into a clear plastic cup. Charlie drank greedily, not realising how thirsty he was until the first drop of lukewarm water touched his tongue. 

Draco pulled the straw away gently. 

“The doctor will be here in a minute,” he murmured, squeezing Charlie’s hand. 

“What are you doing here?” Charlie asked again, his brow furrowing. 

“You’re here,” Draco replied, clearly fighting a losing battle with his emotions as he gestured to the hospital room with his free hand. “Did you really expect me to stay at home?” 

Charlie blinked. “I. Uh. Didn’t expect to end up in the hospital?” 

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but the doctor walked in and Draco just sat back in his seat. There was a hopeless look on his face, and Charlie didn’t like it. He noticed Draco didn’t release the grip on his hand though. Charlie squeezed it. 

The doctor looked between them and raised one eyebrow at Draco in question. 

Draco shook his head. 

“What’s going on?” Charlie asked, following the mute conversation with confusion, curiosity, and a steadily growing frustration. 

“I’m very sorry, Sargeant Weasley. The landmine you stepped on left you with grievous injuries. We had to amputate your right leg, just above the knee.” 

… 

Phantom limb pain was cruel. 

Three weeks after the surgery that had removed his right leg, and Charlie was still positive that he could feel the fire in it. 

Draco wheeled the chair up the ramp onto the plane and secured him in place with the help of the staff, and took the seat beside him. Charlie tried to offer him a smile, but from the look on Draco’s face, it hadn’t worked. 

Charlie just hated being so reliant on his husband. He was being wheeled around in a chair for everything he wanted to do, he even needed help to use the bathroom. It was humiliating and degrading and Charlie hated it. 

That Draco did it all without a word, without even needing to be asked, just made Charlie feel worse, because Draco was taking the brunt of his anger. 

He didn’t mean to snap, to growl and glare, but he couldn’t seem to help it. Draco just waited silently for his anger to diminish, and told him it was okay. It would be okay. 

Charlie couldn’t find it in himself to believe him. 

At least they were going home. He was looking forward to being back in the house they’d been so happy to buy, to being back amongst his home comforts. As soon as they were settled, Charlie would be beginning physio, and in a few more weeks, he’d be fitted for a prosthetic leg. 

He’d been warned not to expect too much of himself, but he’d waved those words away too. He didn’t need pointless reassurances that time would heal, and he’d be back to normal one day. 

He needed to be able to work towards it now, because he needed his autonomy back. He needed to be able to shower alone, and go to the toilet without help, and get out of bed when he wanted, instead of being asked what he wanted and having it brought to him. 

Draco stared out of the window, and Charlie felt a fresh wave of guilt. He knew how much Draco hated flying. He reached over, taking Draco’s hand in his own. Taking off was always the worst part for Draco. 

“It’ll be okay,” Charlie murmured. “It’ll be up and straight soon.” 

Draco nodded and his lips tilted in a smile. He lifted Charlie’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I know. You’re here, I’ll be fine.” 

… 

A trail of visitors and well wishers descended on them, practically as soon as Draco wheeled Charlie up the drive to the front door. He’d barely closed the door behind them when the first knock sounded. 

Charlie’s mum, Molly, was the first through the door, bringing with her lots of food in tupperware and warm hugs. She cried when she held Charlie to her chest, and he stroked her back. 

“I’m here, Mum,” he said as she pulled back. “It could have been worse, right?” 

She nodded, wiping away her tears. “Of course, Dear. It’s so good to have you home.” 

Charlie nodded. 

His siblings and his father followed, each of them hugging Charlie and asking how he was feeling. The words “I’m fine” fell from his lips so many times, Charlie got bored of saying them. 

He wasn’t fine. They all knew he wasn’t fine, and he was getting more and more annoyed every time he was asked if he was okay. 

He’d lost his leg. Clearly, he  _ wasn’t _ . 

His dad escaped into the kitchen with Draco at the first opportunity, and Charlie could hear the soft murmur of voices as Draco explained more about what had happened, and what would happen next. 

Charlie was grateful to his husband for that. The last thing he wanted to do was repeat the words of the doctor. Eventually, they were left alone. Charlie had thought it would be better, but the awkward silence that fell between them was more uncomfortable than having to pretend to be okay. 

Eventually, Draco spoke, but it was to tell Charlie that he’d had a bedroom made on the ground floor to make it easier to get Charlie around, and that was practically the last thing he needed to hear. 

He wanted to sleep in  _ their  _ bed. He wanted to sweep Draco up into his arms and carry him up the stairs, the same way he did every time he returned home on leave. 

_ He wanted to not be crippled so badly that he couldn’t even make it to the bedroom they’d shared for almost ten years.  _

He didn’t voice any of that. He nodded to Draco and helped as much as he could with washing himself and changing him into soft sweats and an old t-shirt. Thankfully, the strength in his arms hadn’t waned too much, or he’d never even make it out of the chair at all. 

Draco helped him into the bed and pressed a kiss to his temple before leaving the room. Charlie shifted until he was comfortable, lying flat on his back with his eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

There was still a patch there, that he’d missed the last time Draco had had him decorate. It used to amuse him. Now it just reminded him of all the things he couldn’t do anymore. 

Charlie closed his eyes, praying for sleep to find him quickly so he didn’t have to think anymore. 

Soft footsteps made him open them again, and he turned his head to see Draco moving around the bed to the otherside, freshly showered and dressed in one of Charlie’s t-shirts and his boxers. The t-shirt looked ridiculous, more of a dress than a top, the way it hung from Draco. 

He climbed into bed beside Charlie, tucking himself up against Charlie’s side, exactly the way he used to. 

“What are you doing?” Charlie asked, automatically lifting his arm for Draco to shuffle closer. 

“Coming to bed? It’s late babe.” 

“Why are you sleeping down here?” Charlie clarified. 

Draco frowned up at him. “Babe, this is  _ our _ bed. You didn’t think I was going to just… leave you down here, did you?” 

“Well, I mean—” 

“Arse. I’ve already got plans to turn the old bedroom into a dressing room.” 

Charlie couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him. “Of course you have.” 

His arm tightened around Draco though, and when Draco wound his own arm over Charlie’s chest, his hand resting lightly over Charlie’s heart, Charlie felt peace for the first time since he’d woken up. 

… 

Slowly, Charlie gained confidence in moving himself around. One of the first things the physiotherapist taught him was how to safely move himself from the bed to the wheelchair. Once he had that down, he could get himself around the ground floor of the house without too much effort. 

Time passed slowly, and Charlie got used to his new limitations. He wasn’t happy with them, didn’t think he ever would be, but he got used to them. 

Draco was around a lot, having taken a longer leave from work despite Charlie’s encouragement for him to go back. It was strange. They’d gone from only having contact via letters and phone calls, to being around one another all the time again. 

Draco was great though. He left Charlie to do his own thing for the most part, only helping when Charlie actually needed it. It was completely different to his mum’s brand of care when she visited, which was quite often. 

His mum didn’t let him do anything for himself, even going so far as scolding him for joining her in the kitchen while she cooked lunch. Charlie didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but it was frustrating to be treated like a child when he was a grown man, perfectly capable of doing many of the things she insisted on. 

Draco fixed that too. Charlie had no idea how he’d done it, but a short conversation between the two of them, and his mum was suddenly much more relaxed about Charlie’s ability to get around. 

She watched him carefully still, but she stopped intervening when he was doing the simplest of tasks, for which Charlie was eternally grateful. 

Finally,  _ finally,  _ the physiotherapist deemed Charlie ready to start working with the prosthesis he’d been measured for. 

It was hard, harder than Charlie had expected it to be, to get used to walking again, and even a few minutes on the parallel bars left him breathless and tired for hours after. Draco was his silent support during the aftermath of each appointment, and he never said anything when Charlie collapsed into bed, tired and just completely done in from the exertion. 

It was a process, they kept telling him. Charlie just wanted to be done with the process. He wanted to start getting his life back. 

He wanted to start living again, instead of existing. 

… 

Draco went back to work. Charlie was doing much better with his prosthesis, and honestly, Draco needed a little bit of normality. 

Having Charlie home was wonderful, and not spending every night wondering if tomorrow would be the day he’d get the phone call from the army that his husband had been killed in action was even better, but Draco was tired. 

Charlie wasn’t Charlie anymore, which… well, was understandable, all things considered, but still hard. 

It was difficult, having his husband home, but not really having his Charlie at the same time. 

He grabbed two coffee’s on his way into the station, handing one over to Harry as he sat down at the desk. It was almost like nothing had changed, as Harry filled him in on the latest cases and what they were aiming at on their shift. 

Almost, but not quite. 

As they readied themselves to leave the station, Harry asked, “How’s Charlie coping?” 

Draco shrugged. He felt guilty that he didn’t want to talk about Charlie, but he just needed a little bit of distance. Just for a few hours. 

“He’s doing okay. Ginny said she’d go see him today, so I’m sure they’re having fun watching shit daytime tv and eating far too much junk food.” 

Harry snorted. “Sounds about right. I don’t know how my wife eats as much crap as she does and keeps that figure of hers.” 

Draco grinned and nodded to the door. “Let’s get out of here.” 

… 

Charlie stared at the tv, paying very little attention to what was actually happening on it. Ginny cackled beside him, heckling the couple that were apparently perfectly comfortable airing their relationship problems for the world to see. 

“He’s definitely guilty,” Ginny announced, pointing at the screen. “Shifty git. She should dump his ass.” 

“Probably,” Charlie agreed, not caring one way or the other. 

Ginny was correct and the man’s lie detector proved him a cheat. She scoffed at the tv when the woman flounced off to the side of the stage, face already wet with tears. 

“Psh, I bet she takes him back,” Ginny muttered, rolling her eyes. “Some women have no self esteem, it’s sad.” 

“Uh huh,” Charlie replied. 

“How bored are you right now?” she asked slyly, and Charlie blinked. 

“I think I’d rather watch paint dry,” he admitted. “How do people watch this shit every day? Why do people  _ care  _ about strangers’ love lives? Why should I care if Brendan is cheating on Mindy?” 

“They were called Barry and Michelle.” 

“Well, them too. I’m sure there’s an unhappy couple called Brendan and Mindy somewhere,” Charlie replied, shrugging. “Point is, I have zero fucks to give.” 

Ginny snorted, leaning over to snag the tv remote. “Here,” she said, switching the channel. “Watch police catch bad guys instead.” 

Charlie sighed but nodded. This would at least have to be a little more interesting than Bruce and Mary’s relationship. 

… 

“Hey baby,” Draco called as he entered the house, closing the door behind him. 

Charlie perked up as Draco entered the living room, and held his arms out for Draco to sink into. Draco carefully sat on Charlie’s lap and leant into his chest, letting his face settle against Charlie’s neck. 

“Good day?” he asked, lips brushing the bare skin. 

“Eh,” Charlie shrugged. “Ginny came and made me watch shit tv.” 

Draco snorted. “Sounds riveting.” 

“There was one show I liked,” Charlie admitted. “It was about catching the people that abuse animals.” 

Draco smiled against Charlie’s neck. He’d never met anyone so passionate about animals as Charlie was. “Hmm? Tell me about it.” 

Charlie did so, getting more and more animated as he described the show. Draco stayed silent as his smile widened slightly. This was the most emotion he’d heard in Charlie’s tone since they’d returned home. 

When Charlie finally wound down, Draco shifted, pressing a soft kiss to Charlie’s cheek. “I love you.” 

… 

Over the following weeks, Draco noticed a rather disheartening pattern. Charlie was distant when Draco came home from work, barely paying attention to any conversation Draco attempted to make. 

Though he still went to bed with Draco, he seemed to be uninterested in even the most innocent of cuddles, and often turned his back to Draco immediately. 

The worst of it, though, was when Draco woke up in the night to find the other side of the bed empty. Every time, Draco would find Charlie in the living room, eyes on the tv, watching the animal abuse programme. 

It was… worrying. 

On Draco’s few days off, Charlie could be downright unpleasant. Even the simplest suggestion of leaving the house was met with belligerent replies and often quickly devolved into rows. 

Draco, who had a cruel tongue when hurt or annoyed, often ended up leaving the house alone rather than engaging Charlie in an argument. He didn’t  _ want  _ to be cruel to Charlie, didn’t want to argue with him. 

He didn’t know what to do. 

… 

Charlie didn’t bother checking the clock as he settled himself on the sofa. It would only make him feel guilty, and he was tired of feeling guilty. Draco had still been sleeping when Charlie had carefully guided himself out of bed, and hopefully, he’d sleep until morning. 

He’d suggested that they get a tv for the bedroom, but the look on Draco’s face had quickly made him drop the subject. Even so, if Draco didn’t want a tv in the bedroom, it was hardly Charlie’s fault if he couldn’t sleep, right? 

Keeping the volume low, Charlie relaxed back as Marcus Flint appeared on screen. He was such a good person. He’d presented seventeen series of Animal Cops, and he was so kind to the many animals they show helped. 

Marcus helped Charlie feel normal much more than most other things did, and he felt like he was a kindred spirit in his love of animals, big or small. 

A noise at the door made Charlie turn, and he saw Draco standing in the doorway, pale in the light from the tv. Charlie knew he should say something, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. Draco shook his head and walked away. 

Charlie heard the bedroom door click shut quietly and he sighed to himself, turning his attention back to the tv. 

Part of him knew he should return to the bedroom, but the larger part of him wanted to stay exactly where he was. Draco was a grown man, he’d get over it. 

It wasn’t like Draco needed Charlie beside him to sleep. He’d spent months at a time alone, while Charlie was overseas. 

It would be fine. It  _ was  _ fine. 

Charlie ignored the little voice in his head that told him it wasn’t. 

… 

Draco got home from work, exhausted and wanting nothing more than a hot bath and a warm bed. He had no illusions about Charlie joining him, but even a smile from his husband could only make this day better. 

He hung his jacket up and entered the living room, freezing when he found Charlie waiting for him, glaring hard and clearly stewing in anger. 

“What’s up with you?” Draco asked, raising his eyebrow. 

“Walburga Black,” Charlie spat, his glare intensifying. 

Draco blinked. He knew the name, there wasn’t anyone in the area who didn’t know Walburga’s reputation, but he didn’t understand what about her was making Charlie so mad. 

“I’m gonna need more than that, babe,” Draco admitted, running a hand through his hair. “What about her?” 

“She abused that poor dog until he was almost dead, and then  _ you people  _ couldn’t even lock her up correctly! What even is the point of you if none of you can do your job?!” 

“You realise that isn’t my department, right?” 

“Oh, sure, pass the book, it’s what you’re all good at, right?” 

“Charlie, I work with  _ people.  _ I work with violent crimes against  _ humans,  _ and  _ murder of humans.  _ Animal abuse doesn’t even come close to my department!” 

Charlie rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You’re all fucking  _ useless _ .” 

Draco’s heart stuttered and he took a step back. “Wow.” 

Without another word, Draco slipped out of the living room into the hallway and closed the door. He didn’t have a clue what had set that off but Charlie’s words echoed in his mind, and the ache in his chest worsened. 

_ Useless.  _

Draco slowly walked up the stairs. He’d take his bath upstairs and sleep in the guest room. The thought of lying in bed beside Charlie, pretending nothing had happened, was inconceivable at that moment, and Draco knew he couldn’t do it. 

Not that Charlie would notice.

… 

He’d fucked up. Charlie knew that as soon as he saw Draco’s eyes widen with hurt. He was just so goddamn frustrated. 

Walburga Black lived in their area, and the way she’d treated her dog… It was inhuman. The poor creature had been battered and starved and… Charlie shook his head. The prosecutors had dropped the ball and evidence had been misplaced, all leading to a not guilty verdict that made Charlie’s blood boil. 

Still, he knew Draco had been right. It  _ wasn’t  _ Draco’s department. Honestly, thinking about it, Charlie would be surprised if Draco was even aware of such a case, as far removed as he was from such crimes. 

Slumping in his chair, Charlie sighed. He’d apologise as soon as Draco came back downstairs. 

Except… Draco didn’t come back downstairs. Charlie waited, and he waited and he waited. He heard Draco’s footsteps overhead as he left the bathroom, only for them to move in the opposite direction of the stairs. 

It didn’t take long to work out that Draco had settled himself in the guest room. 

Charlie thought about going to bed, but he couldn’t bring himself to go in there. Didn’t want to face an empty bed, without the warmth of Draco beside him. 

He was being the worst kind of hypocrite and he knew it, but it didn’t change how he felt. 

That night, not even Marcus Flint’s face could bring him out of his black mood. 

… 

The next morning, Draco left the house without facing Charlie. He felt somewhat cowardly for slipping out of the door so early, and so quietly, but he just couldn’t face another argument. 

He hadn’t even gotten his usual coffee, choosing instead to walk to the nearest coffee shop. He sat in the corner, flipping through the paper with a latte, missing his own kitchen as he did. 

He was about to fold the paper and leave for work when he saw a small advert in the corner of one of the back pages. Pulling the paper closer to him, he read it over, an idea sparking in his mind. 

He knew part of Charlie’s constant frustration was being stuck in the house without anything productive to do, and while Draco had been content to let Charlie get himself on track at his own pace, he thought maybe this push would be helpful. 

Anything to get his husband closer to the man he’d married would be a bonus in Draco’s book. 

Pulling his phone out, he searched the contacts until he found the one he wanted and pressed the call button. 

The groan that answered amused him and he chuckled. 

“Morning, George. I need you to do me a favour.” 

“Call back at a decent time and I’ll consider it,” George complained, yawning loudly into the phone mic. 

“Don’t be an asshole. Listen.” 

… 

Charlie was angry. He knew he had no right to be, and yet, waking up to find the house empty had left him wounded and ready to lash out. He knew he had to apologise to Draco, but how was he supposed to apologise if Draco wasn’t even going to give him the opportunity? 

A knock on the door sounded, and Charlie groaned. 

“Come in,” he shouted, hoping that Draco had at least left the door unlocked when he’d left that morning. 

Thankfully he had. 

“Lazy sod, why aren’t you even dressed?” George asked, entering the living room. 

“What’s to get dressed for?” Charlie snapped. “Not like I’m going anywhere.” 

“Wrong,” Seamus chimed in, entering behind George. “Come on, up and at ‘em. We’re going out.” 

“Where?” Charlie asked, frowning. He didn’t  _ want  _ to leave the house. He’d been ignoring the prompting to leave the house for weeks, why would today be any different? 

“Get dressed and you’ll see,” George replied, rolling his eyes. 

“George—” 

“Is there any reason you can’t walk short distances outdoors on your prosthetic leg?” Seamus asked, raising his eyebrow. 

“Well, no, but—” 

“Then there’s no excuse. Let’s go. Move your ass, the sun goes down in about eight hours.”

Charlie looked at Seamus and then George and realised that they weren’t going to drop the subject until he did as they asked. With an annoyed huff, Charlie gave in and pulled his prosthetic leg over. 

Glaring at Seamus, he nodded at it. “Make yourself useful and help me put it on then.” 

… 

“Where are we going?” Charlie asked, when the three of them had been walking for twenty minutes. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was already tiring. 

“We’re here,” Seamus said, nodding at the large building in front of them. 

Charlie looked up at the sign.  _ Wildacres Pet Sanctuary.  _

“What are we doing here?” Charlie asked. 

George sighed. “Draco called this morning. There was an ad in the paper for this place, they need volunteers. He thought it would be the perfect fit for you, and asked me to tell you about it. Since I know how much of a stubborn ass you can be, I thought it would be better to show you.” 

“Draco suggested this?” Charlie asked, eyebrows raised. 

How did he deserve his husband? He’d been an utter douchenugget to him, and Draco’s response to that was to find him something to do with his time that he’d actually enjoy. 

“I… can we go inside?” Charlie asked. 

“Well, we didn’t fetch you here to look at the pretty sign,” Seamus said, shaking his head. 

George snorted and pressed a kiss to his boyfriend’s head. “I got this, babe. You head back to work, okay? I’ll see you later.” 

Seamus nodded and kissed George quickly, before he clapped a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “I know this is hard,” he said quietly, “and I know it sucks when things don’t go quickly enough, but you have an amazing husband and an amazing family. Don’t let what happened define your life, okay?” 

Seamus walked off with a wave, and Charlie looked at George. 

George just gestured for Charlie to proceed into the sanctuary.

…

Draco wasn’t sure what he was walking into when he got home that evening, and he was admittedly nervous about it. He’d spent the entire walk home bracing himself for Charlie’s possible anger, because while he was hoping for happiness, he expected anger. 

He closed the door behind himself and hung up his coat, before he took a deep breath and entered the living room. 

Only to find it empty. 

Draco frowned to himself and walked through the living room to the kitchen, blinking when he saw Charlie sitting on a high stool by the cooker, a wide smile on his face. 

“Uh, hi,” he greeted from the doorway. 

Charlie looked around to see him and if possible, his smile widened. 

“Thank you,” Charlie said simply, holding his hand out for Draco to take. 

Draco stepped forward and took the hand, allowing Charlie to pull him closer until he could wrap his arms around him. 

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said into Draco’s hair. “I was a dick, and you did nothing wrong. I know that. I know it’s not your department, and I didn’t mean any of what I said. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Draco murmured. “You went to the sanctuary?” 

Charlie nodded, and when Draco pulled back, it was to see Charlie’s eyes shining in a way they hadn’t since the last time he’d been home on leave from the army; way before his injury. 

“I’m going to work there three days a week,” Charlie told him, happily. “Theo and Blaise, they run the place, were really understanding about the limitations I could possibly have, and they were chill about me maybe not making it in on every day that I should be there. It’s amazing.” 

Draco smiled. It was so good to see Charlie  _ smile.  _ Really smile. Not the sad imitation Draco had become used to seeing. 

“That’s great, babe,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Charlie’s cheek. Charlie held him still and pressed a long kiss to Draco’s mouth, caressing his cheek gently. 

“I love you,” Charlie murmured. “And I don’t deserve how much you do for me.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Sap. What’s all this?” he asked, gesturing to the simmering pans on the stove. 

“Hmm, carbonara. Your favourite, right?” 

Draco smiled. “You remembered.” 

“Of course I did. Go get changed into something comfortable, kay. We’ll eat and binge watch the latest housewives.” 

Draco grinned. “You’re perfect.” 

… 

Things got better after that. Draco had Charlie back, and Charlie was happy. It was as perfect as Draco had ever hoped for, and they settled into a new routine. 

Charlie still watched Animal Cops, but Draco knew to pick his battles, and that wasn’t one he wanted to fight. The amount of time Charlie spent watching it had definitely lessened, and he stayed in bed at night time now, so Draco figured it probably wasn’t worth the argument. 

Draco and Harry closed a big case at work, which meant their own work schedule had eased off some, at least for the time being, and… 

Draco was happy. 

Draco got home from work one evening, and was surprised to find Charlie sitting in the dark, not even the tv on. 

“Charlie?” 

He didn’t reply, and Draco wasn’t sure what to do. He rounded the sofa and crouched down in front of Charlie, resting his hands lightly on Charlie’s thigh. 

“Babe? What is it?” 

“I saw her,” Charlie whispered. 

“Who, baby?” 

“Walburga Black. She…” Charlie shook his head. “She’s got another dog, Dray. I heard her screaming at it, and then, she whipped it with it’s lead. She had one of those horrible metal choke leads on it and… it was horrible.” 

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” Draco said, sighing heavily. “Did you phone the police?” 

Charlie shook his head. “I… I froze. I wanted to intervene, tell her off for treating the dog that way, you know? But I couldn’t. I felt… I felt… weak, Draco. I felt like I couldn’t—” 

Draco shifted himself up onto the sofa and pulled Charlie against his chest, rocking them both slightly. 

“You listen to me,” he said, tone soft but firm. “That prosthetic doesn’t make you any less of the person you were before you got it, you hear me? I know it’s been hard, Charlie, but you got through it. You’re still here, still living, still helping animals, and you’re always going to be able to do that. She’s one evil old bat, and I’ll file a report on her in the morning, I promise, but don’t let one instance set you back, okay? You’re so strong, Charlie.” 

Charlie let himself relax into Draco’s chest, nuzzling his face there. Draco stroked a hand through Charlie’s hair. 

This was just a setback, Draco forced himself to believe. It was going to be okay. 

… 

Charlie pulled the collar up around his face. Autumn had settled in, and with it, cold nights and colder breezes. 

He was heading home after a day at the sanctuary and he was in high spirits. He and Draco had a weekend to themselves to look forward too, and they’d adopted out two of the dogs that morning, to a lovely couple. 

It had been a really good day. 

Charlie turned into the alley he used as a shortcut home when he was tired and stopped. At the other end of the alley, in plain sight, was Walburga Black. 

Charlie watched in disbelief as she kicked the dog beside her. The yelp the poor thing let out had Charlie clenching his fists. He stepped forwards, hesitating slightly. Draco’s words flowed through his mind. 

“OI!” he shouted, when she raised her foot to kick the dog a second time. 

She looked up, glaring at Charlie. “What?” she snapped. 

“Leave that dog alone,” Charlie said, as he stepped closer to her. “There’s nothing it could have done to warrant such treatment!” 

“Fuck off,” she growled. “It’s none of your fucking business!” 

She yanked the choke chain she had around the dog’s neck, and Charlie winced at the way the dog’s yelp was cut off. He moved faster, pulling the lead from her hold and loosening it around the dog’s neck. 

“How dare you!” Walburga shrieked, slapping at him. “That’s my dog, you have no right! Give it back!” 

Charlie glared at her. “You don’t deserve to be around animals,” he said, low and throaty. He was shaking with anger, and he really needed to be away from her, immediately. He just refused to leave the poor animal at her mercy. 

She smacked at him again, trying to snatch the lead away. Charlie slipped it from around the dog’s neck, and was about to hold it out to her, when she levelled another kick at the dog. 

Charlie saw red. 

He pressed forwards without thinking, and watched through narrowed eyes as her eyes widened as she tried to escape him. 

“Not fun, is it?” he asked, tightening his hold. “Being vulnerable. Afraid.  _ Helpless _ .” 

She struggled against him, but he was strong, particularly his hands and his arms. He held her without too much effort. 

When he finally let go, she fell to the ground and lay prone on the floor. Her eyes were still open, staring straight up to the sky, and Charlie’s hands shook around the metal chain as he stared at her. 

He’d… 

With her own dog lead, he’d killed her. 

Charlie knelt beside the trembling dog and held a hand out for it to sniff. It came to him hesitantly, every step it took cautious. 

Charlie stroked its head for a moment before he took a closer look at the tag hanging off the collar. 

“Padfoot,” he murmured, smiling slightly. “Come on then, pup. Let’s get some food for you.” 

The choke chain was thrown into the river as Charlie passed the bridge. Padfoot walked alongside Charlie, limping slightly. 

Adrenaline coursed through Charlie’s veins. He knew he should be panicking. He’d just  _ murdered someone.  _ This wasn’t some tiny crime that didn’t matter. This was… this was something his  _ husband  _ would most likely investigate. 

He couldn’t find it in himself to feel remorse though. The woman had nothing redeeming about her. She was an animal abusing, shrieking, shrew, and… well. 

She was a waste of oxygen. 

He’d just… remedied that. 

… 

Draco let himself into the house, and blinked when he heard a bark. What the…? 

“Charlie?” 

“In the back, babe,” Charlie called back. 

Draco walked through to find Charlie sitting on the back porch. A fluffy black dog was playing with an old tennis ball. Draco frowned. 

“What’s with the dog?” he asked, leaning his arms on Charlie’s shoulders in a loose embrace. 

“I found him on my way home from the sanctuary,” Charlie replied. “He just… well look at him, Dray. He’s pitiful, and he was whimpering. I couldn’t just leave him.” 

Draco snorted. “Of course you couldn’t. Has he got an ID at least?” 

“There’s a tag that says  _ Padfoot  _ on it, but no owner details,” Charlie replied. “So… I have no idea. I figured I could take him to the sanctuary tomorrow. We’ve got a chip reader, so we can see if he’d chipped. If not… he can stay there, I guess?” 

Draco nodded. “Let’s just hope he’s housetrained, huh?” 

“I’ll clean it if he’s not,” Charlie assured him with a quiet chuckle. 

“Glad we agree on that,” Draco replied. He dropped his head to Charlie’s shoulder. “I’m gonna take a shower and just go to bed. I’ve got a headache. Don’t sit out here too late, kay? I don’t want you to get ill.” 

“I’ll be in soon,” Charlie promised. 

… 

Draco woke to his phone ringing on the bedside table. He groaned and groped for it, finding it just as it rang off. 

Wincing at the bright light of the screen, he looked to see who it was, groaning again when he realised it was Harry. 

He returned the call, frowning when he realised he’d struggled moving because there was a weight on his legs. Looking down the bed, he rolled his eyes when he realised Padfoot was lying right across his legs. 

“What is it, Potter?” Draco asked quietly, trying not to wake Charlie beside him. 

“We’ve got a body,” Harry said. Draco could hear the exhaustion in his voice. 

“Send me the details,” he said with a deep sigh. “I’m on my way.” 

He ended the call and sat up, nudging the dog off his legs. Of course, that only woke it up, and a second later, he was being doused in dog slobber. 

“What the—” he pushed Padfoot away as he tried to climb out of bed. 

“S’up, babe,” Charlie slurred, turning onto his back and squinting his eyes at Draco. 

“Sort your dog out,” Draco replied, his tone fonder than he intended. “I’ve been called in. I’ll try and call you later, okay?” 

Charlie pushed himself up on his elbow and gestured Draco to him for a kiss. “Stay safe.” 

“Will do,” Draco said, pressing a second kiss to Charlie’s temple. “Go back to sleep.” 

… 

“What’ve we got?” Draco asked, approaching the scene. Dawn was breaking, and there was enough light to see the area. 

Harry accepted the offered coffee. “Walburga Black. Still waiting on the positive ID, but it’s her. Forensics have already done the area, come up with… not a lot. M.E. says it looks like she was choked with a chain, probably metal. There’s dog hair on her, but they’ll probably have more for us later.” 

Draco nodded. “Any idea what kind of dog hair?” 

Harry shook his head. “Not yet. It’s black, but that’s all we got.” 

“Charlie found a black dog last night on his way home, said it was wandering on it’s own. Could be hers, I suppose.” 

“Could be. Think we can have him fetch the dog to the station later? Get a hair sample?” 

“Probably. He’s going to take it to the sanctuary this morning, see if there’s a chip to find it’s owners. Might be better to meet him there, then we can find out if it does belong to someone else at the same time?” 

“Sure,” Harry agreed with a shrug. “You wanna head to the station and arrange a board while I grab a couple of hours sleep?” 

Draco nodded. “Meet you at the sanctuary at… midday?” 

Harry smiled. “Cheers mate.” 

… 

“He’s not chipped,” Blaise said, stroking Padfoot’s head as he put the machine away. “But he’s malting everywhere, so you know, go wild getting your sample.” 

Draco laughed, collecting a few hairs and putting them into an evidence bag. 

“Where’d you find him, Charlie?” Harry asked, his notebook resting on the counter of the reception area. 

“He was limping up by the river bridge,” Charlie said, smiling when Padfoot ambled over to him. He buried a hand in Padfoot’s fluffy fur. 

Harry nodded and closed his notebook. “That’ll probably be it, as far as information we need from you. If he is her dog, he’ll…” Harry shook his head. “I don’t think she had family, so if you can’t take him here, he’ll probably be put to sleep.” 

Charlie frowned. 

Blaise shook his head. “We’ll take him. I won’t have an innocent, healthy...ish dog put down.” 

Theo nodded his agreement. “He’ll be better with us anyway, won’t you boy?” 

Padfoot barked happily, revelling in the attention. 

Draco leant over and kissed Charlie. “I’ll call if I’m going to be late.” 

Charlie nodded. 

… 

Admittedly, feeling good about murder was probably a bit not good. Charlie realised that, he really did. But. 

It made him feel  _ alive.  _

It had been weeks since that night, and still he could feel the echo of the adrenaline rush in his veins. 

The police had hit a brick wall with the lack of evidence. Charlie felt a little guilty about the added pressure it put on Draco, but from what Draco said, the case would be put with the other unsolved murders for the time being. 

Padfoot dropped his tennis ball in front of Charlie, panting happily as he waited for Charlie to throw it for him again, which he did, chuckling when the dog seemed to trip over his own paws in his haste to chase the ball. 

Padfoot had been another positive to come of the situation, in that Draco had caved and let Charlie bring him home. He was a lovely dog, and with so much positive reinforcement, he’d been coming on leaps and bounds. 

He’d gained weight, and Charlie had had him groomed so his fur was shorter, and shinier. 

Even Draco enjoyed being greeted with happy barks and slobbery kisses when he got home from work. 

Charlie would never have considered himself capable of cold blooded murder. Of course, he’d killed, he was a soldier, but never with his own bare hands. He wondered what it meant about him that he didn’t feel a shred of remorse. 

He wondered what it meant that he’d do it again. 

…

“Hey bro,” Bill greeted when Charlie let himself into the back garden. It was all decked out, and the party was already in full swing. He let Padfoot off his lead and grinned as the dog shot off in the direction of Ginny. 

He wasn’t a stupid dog; Ginny spoiled him rotten all too often. 

Charlie grinned at his older brother and hugged him tightly. “How are you doing?” 

“Fantastic,” Bill grinned. “Come on, Mum’s been fretting about you getting here.” 

Charlie snorted but followed Bill into the melee, accepting hugs from his siblings as he passed them. 

He hugged his mum tightly. “Happy Birthday, Mum.” 

She smiled at him, cupping his cheek. “You look wonderful, Dear. Where’s Draco?” 

“Work,” Charlie replied sadly. “He and Harry said they’ll try and get out later, but he’s doubtful. They’ve got a case with the boy from the other end of the city, so…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “You know how it goes.” 

Molly nodded sadly. “Well, at least you’re here.” 

Charlie grinned. He loved his family. 

…

Draco hadn’t made it to the party, and he was still at least an hour from home when Charlie called to see if he’d be there before Charlie left. They agreed to meet at home, and after a long round of hugs, Charlie leashed Padfoot and left the large garden. 

Dusk was setting as they walked and Charlie was glad they were getting home before the cold could really set in. The outdoor heaters at his parent’s had kept them all from getting cold, but as night began to arrive, the temperatures were dropping even further. 

Winter would be here before they knew it. 

A noise in a small encove caught his attention, and Padfoot barked. Charlie paused and then stepped closer, eyes widening when he saw a guy behind the bins, falling about laughing as he waved a lighter around. 

He was clearly drunk, but as Charlie neared, he realised the man was threatening a small ginger cat. 

He shook his head. “Oi, asshole. How about we don’t do that, huh?” 

The guy looked up and scowled at Charlie. “Oh, you gonna stop me, are ya?” he slurred. 

The cat gave a pitiful meow as it tried to slide past the guy, only for him to swing and catch the end of the it’s tail with his lit lighter. 

Charlie stepped forwards and snatched the lighter away from the drunk. “I told you to  _ stop.”  _

The cat managed to escape this time, with the man’s attention on Charlie. Charlie smiled as it ran around the corner. 

“Think you’re a big man, do ya?” the man said, pushing at Charlie aggressively. 

Charlie pushed back, hard, and the guy stumbled, falling back and cracking his head on the sharp corner of the bin. He lay on the floor, groaning in pain as blood poured from the cut. 

Blood was pounding in his ears and as the guy tried to sit up, Padfoot snarled, snapping at him. 

“I’ll fuckin’ ‘ave you,” the guy slurred. 

Charlie quirked his eyebrow. “Go on then. Show me how you pick on someone your own size, why don’t you?” 

The drunk struggled to his feet, blood still dripping out of the cut. He swung at Charlie, missing by a mile. Charlie chuckled darkly. 

“Oh, look. Even with a bigger target, you  _ still  _ miss,” he taunted. 

The guy swung again, and this time his aim was true. Charlie caught the fist before it could hit his face.

“People like you make me sick,” he told the drunk quietly. “Being cruel to animals, just because you think it’s okay. They’re only animals, right?  _ Wrong _ .” 

“It’s a cat,” the man spat. “It was just a bit of fun, s’not like I killed it, isit? S’just a way to pass the time.” 

Charlie didn’t mean to snap his neck. He really didn’t. 

He dropped the man into the encove and tipped one of the bins beside him, half covering him with rubbish. Flicking the still hot lighter open, he lit it and systematically lit a few pieces of the litter around the man. 

Poetic justice, he thought. 

…

Charlie was washing the smoke out of Padfoot’s fur when Draco called. He answered and put it on speaker, placing the mobile carefully on the table nearby. 

“I’m going to be a while,” Draco said. “There’s been an incident on Warland road, and Harry and I are the only people on call tonight. I’ll be home… later. Maybe. Hopefully.” 

“I hope everything’s okay,” Charlie replied, feigning concern. 

“I think we’re probably going to be passing this over to the accidental death team but we’ll see. I’ll see you later, babe.” 

“Love you,” Charlie said, listening to Draco repeat the sentiment before the call ended. 

For the second time, he felt more guilt for putting pressure on Draco than he did for the actual act. When he was sure that he couldn’t smell even a hint of smoke on Padfoot, he dried the dog off and got a towel for himself. 

The least he could do, he supposed, was make sure Draco had some nice food to come home too. 

… 

The adrenaline didn’t last quite as long the second time. Charlie was baffled by it, but he tried to ignore the itch just beneath his skin. He continued his life as he had before, looking after Padfoot, spending his days at the sanctuary and his evenings with Draco. 

And yet… he was left wanting. 

Searching the files on the sanctuary computer was surprisingly simple. Names jumped out at him. Address.  _ Offences _ . 

It made it  _ easy.  _

… 

“I’m so tired,” Draco complained, lying down on the sofa, his head pillowed on Charlie’s thigh. He’d taken his prosthetic off for the night, and Draco’s hand rested on the stump like it was completely natural. 

Charlie often marvelled at Draco’s ability to not be disgusted by it. He still felt the odd phantom pain from his missing limb, but Draco’s touch always soothed him.

Charlie felt a now familiar stab of guilt. He was the cause for Draco’s exhaustion and stress. He was the reason Draco was working more and more overtime, trying to catch the serial killer roaming the streets. 

“It’s hard,” Draco continued. “We all understand what’s compelling him to commit the murders. Nobody wants to see an animal being abused. I just… the court system isn’t always foolproof, but it’s the only system we’ve got. Having a vigilante out there killing them isn’t helping anything.” 

Charlie stroked a hand through Draco’s blond hair. “I’m sorry you’re so stressed, sweetheart,” he murmured. 

Draco pressed a kiss to his clothed thigh. “Nothing you can do about it, babe. I just… really need a holiday. Immediately. Preferably with a warm beach and a naked you.” 

Charlie chuckled. “I hope not both at the same time. Not only is that unsanitary, but sand would get into very inconvenient places. I can’t imagine that would be too comfortable for anyone.” 

Draco laughed. “Good point, well made, I concede.”

Charlie chuckled. A holiday did sound good though. A chance to just… relax, just the two of them. 

… 

“Hear anything new about the murderer the town's talking about?” Blaise asked, a few days later as he and Charlie systematically fed the animals. 

Charlie shook his head. “Nothing really. Draco’s really frustrated. He’s under a lot of pressure to get the case closed and make an arrest but… if there’s no evidence, what can you do?” 

Blaise nodded. “Fair. I mean. I’m against murder as a general rule, you know?” 

“Well, yeah but the… killer is deading animal abusers, babe,” Theo chimed in, as he entered the long corridor. “Can’t be all bad, can they?” 

“Yeah, but he—” 

“Uh, we don’t gender-stereotype, dude,” Theo cut in, interrupting Blaise. “We’re equal opportunity gossips and the killer could be any gender.” 

“Fine,” Blaise replied, smiling. “The killer probably shouldn’t be using murder to make a statement, right? Murder is as bad as animal abuse, isn’t it?” 

“Eh,” Theo shrugged. “I like animals better than most humans.” 

“Theo,” Blaise sighed. “Murder is bad.” 

Charlie chuckled. “Draco said the police all understand the compulsion. I mean, I get it, too. The justice system is… questionable when it comes to sentences for animal abuse. A slap on the wrist, a fine, occasionally a custodial sentence that’s less than someone gets for… I don’t know, burglary. It’s hella frustrating.” 

Blaise and Theo both nodded. 

“Oh, hey did you hear about Marcus Flint?” Theo asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

Charlie shook his head. “What about him?” 

“He’s going to be in Whitby for a weekend next month. He’s doing a meet and greet and all the fun stuff. Taking animals that the show has helped and stuff.” 

“Huh,” Charlie replied. “That’s… interesting.” 

… 

“You said you wanted a holiday, right?” Charlie asked, his face pressed against Draco’s bare shoulder. 

“Uh huh.” 

“So…” 

“I mean. I was thinking a bit… further afield. You know, somewhere nice and warm and… not England. Besides, Whitby will be fucking freezing, Charlie. It’s November.” 

“Well. Yeah. But.” 

“I know, I know. You like Flint and… yeah. Book the thing. You owe me a sunny holiday in the new year, you hear me.” 

“I hear you. I promise. We’ll go somewhere nice and warm after New Year.” 

Draco nodded, shifting their positions so he could curl up against Charlie’s shoulder. “We taking the mutt?” 

Padfoot’s ears pricked up in interest, and he shuffled up the bed. Draco reached out a hand to stroke his head. “You know when we’re talking about you, don’t you?” 

Charlie chuckled. “I figured he could stay with Blaise and Theo for the weekend. Hard to get a hotel that takes dogs, you know?” 

Draco nodded. “Kay. Book… whatever needs to be booked and I’ll log the days at work.” 

Charlie kissed his head. “Thank you.” 

… 

Draco hadn’t been wrong about it being freezing cold. He tugged his coat collar closer and bowed his head slightly against the wind. If it wasn’t for the happy smile on Charlie’s face, he’d have demanded to return to the hotel hours ago. 

As it was, he couldn’t bear to turn Charlie’s smile into a frown. 

Marcus Flint was a smarmy git, if you asked Draco. Oh he talked a good game, but there was just something about him that screamed fake to Draco. Still, Charlie was practically buzzing at the prospect of meeting the man so… who was Draco to argue, really? 

He moved forwards a few footsteps along with the rest of the queue of people, grateful that they were nearing the little wooden hut that Flint had set himself up in to give out autographs and take selfies. 

Draco bet that he had heaters in there too. Fucker. 

“You’re coming in with me, right?” Charlie asked, squeezing Draco’s hand. 

“I… hadn’t intended on it,” Draco admitted. “I’m glad you’re meeting someone you like, babe, but I’ve never really watched the guy.” 

Charlie nodded, but looked a little downcast. Draco sighed. “If you want me to come with you, I will.” 

“I’ll go find you the best fish and chips later,” Charlie replied, grinning at Draco. 

Draco just rolled his eyes. As if Charlie wasn’t going to do that anyway. 

… 

Charlie practically bounced down the road back towards their hotel. It had been such a great day! He’d met Marcus Flint, listened to his talk, and even met some of the animals the show had helped over the years. 

That he and Draco planned to cuddle up and eat fish and chips and lots of junk food while they binge watched movies was just the icing on the best kind of cake, really. 

Charlie took a shortcut across a nearby field. He was really feeling the cold, winter had hit the north with a bang. 

He heard raised voices but ignored them, eager to get back to the hotel and cuddle with his husband. The cold didn’t help his leg either. 

The voices got louder and a recognisable voice made Charlie stop in his tracks. 

_ “I’m forced to work with the wretched creatures, it doesn’t mean I plan to travel with them too! Find some other mug to land them with!”  _

…

Draco was concerned. 

Charlie had returned from his fish and chip run with trembling hands, a pale face, and laboured breathing. 

“Babe? What’s the matter?” 

“I, uh, I was just… here, the food. I’m gonna...” 

Draco hadn’t had a chance to ask any further. The bag of food was shoved into his hands, and the bathroom door was firmly closed and locked in the next breath. Draco didn’t know what to make of any of it. 

He opened the bag and plated the food slowly, waiting for Charlie to come out of the bathroom. When he eventually did, he seemed a little better. 

Draco was still worried. 

“What happened while you were out?” he asked, handing over the plate of still hot food. 

Charlie took it, and swallowed hard. “Just a… shock. I realised I was… wrong about something, that’s all. Don’t worry about it, Sweetheart, I’m fine.” 

“Uh huh.” 

Draco didn’t believe him, but he knew better than to push Charlie when he had such a stubborn resolve about something. If it was important, Draco was sure he’d tell him about it eventually. 

They settled on the bed together, and when they finished eating, Charlie shuffled closer and held Draco to his chest. It was nice, but there was something about the way Charlie clung to him that set Draco further on edge. 

Something was going on, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t like whatever it was. 

… 

Draco stared at the screen, not really seeing it anymore. He’d been so… stupid. How had he not realised what was going on? How had he not seen it? Was he really that fucking blind that he didn’t know his husband was a… 

He couldn’t even think it. 

His hands fisted on his knees until he could feel his nails biting into his skin. The sensation was made worse by the knowledge that if he’d been dreaming as he wished he was, he wouldn’t have felt the pain. 

“You ready to go—” 

Charlie cut himself off as he saw the photo on the screen of the tv. The reporter was talking about the murder of Marcus Flint, and Draco was sitting in front of the screen. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, and a shiver of fear ran up Charlie’s spine. 

“Dray? You ready, babe?” 

Draco looked up at him, and in that moment, when their eyes met, Charlie’s heart sunk like a stone because there was no denying the knowledge and horror shining from Draco’s eyes. 

“Yeah. I’m ready.” 

… 

Draco hadn’t spoken to him on their journey home. He’d put his headphones in and looked out of the window of the train, blatantly ignoring Charlie. When Charlie attempted to put a hand on Draco’s knee, the flinch was painful enough to ensure he didn’t make a second attempt at it. 

Charlie didn’t know what to do. Did he try and force Draco to listen to him? Did he apologise, beg forgiveness, plead innocence? He was at a loss. 

Oddly, despite the amount of time he’d been murdering abusers, he’d never thought about what would happen if he was caught out. 

He’d never really considered Draco’s reaction. 

Now that it was here, he didn’t have the faintest idea to deal with it. 

He could say he was sorry, but he knew Draco wouldn’t believe him, because he wasn’t sorry, and he didn’t think he could feign that kind of remorse. He could offer reasons, explanations, but Draco was a cop. He believed in the legal system. 

He couldn’t support a vigilante serial killer. 

Charlie didn’t even expect him to. 

The limbo though… the not knowing what Draco was thinking, feeling, was the worst thing Charlie had ever experienced. Worse even than losing his leg. 

At least then, despite the hardships, he’d had something to work towards. 

This… he was losing everything in one fell swoop and he could do nothing to change it. 

… 

Draco sat at his desk, tapping his pen against the wood. He’d gotten absolutely nothing done, but thankfully, they’d had no new cases to work on. He was supposed to be catching up on paperwork but… 

That hadn’t happened either. 

Draco didn’t know what to do. On the board in front of him was all the information they had on the serial killer plaguing their streets. Everytime Draco looked at it, he imagined Charlie’s face pinned up on the board. 

What the hell was he supposed to do? 

His first instinct was to tell Harry what he’d discovered. He was a cop, it was what he did. What he was supposed to do. And yet… 

Could he actually do that? Could he really tell Harry that it was Draco’s  _ husband _ that was killing these people? 

He didn’t think so. 

He loved Charlie, had spent most of his adult life loving Charlie. They’d built a life together, overcome the worst possible odds to stay together and he just… 

Draco couldn’t imagine his life without Charlie. It was just… Draco also couldn’t imagine Charlie, his goofy, lovable, caring Charlie, could also be a  _ murderer.  _

It just… it didn’t seem feasible. 

“You okay?” 

Draco blinked. He hadn’t even realised Harry was standing in the doorway, watching him with concern. 

“What? Oh. Yeah, I’m fine, just… distracted today, I guess.” 

Harry nodded. “There’s nothing pressing, you can go home. I’ll cover you, and I can always call you in if we need you.” 

Draco appreciated the thought but he really didn’t want to go home yet. He’d stayed upstairs in the spare room the night before, but he knew he couldn’t continue to ignore Charlie and just hope the problem would go away. 

“I… yeah. Yeah, okay, thanks Potter.” 

… 

Charlie sat on the sofa, Padfoot laid out across his thighs. He’d gotten quite the welcome home from the pup when he’d gone to the sanctuary to pick him up, and he’d been extra clingy since they’d gotten in the house. 

Not that Charlie was complaining. 

He felt sick with nerves as the clock ticked the seconds away until Draco came home. Charlie knew that one way or another, it would be dealt with that evening. Draco wasn’t one to let something lie for too long and Charlie couldn’t even begin to imagine how the conversation was going to go. 

Of course, it might not even be Draco that arrived. It could be Harry, with handcuffs and confusion. 

As the hours passed, and Draco didn’t come home, Charlie began to worry. Where the hell was he? Scenarios rushed through Charlie’s brain one after the other, each worse than the last. 

Had Draco just decided to leave? Was he discussing a raid on his own house with the other officers? Had something happened to him? Was he injured, kidnapped, on a dangerous case? 

Three hours later than Charlie had expected him, Draco walked through the door. 

… 

Walking the town streets didn’t help anymore than sitting in the office tapping his pen had. Draco knew his dilemma, but it didn’t help him come any closer to solving it. 

Could he arrest his husband? Nope. Could he allow him to continue murdering? Also nope. 

Would Charlie stop? Would Draco trust him enough to believe him to stop? Draco had no idea but he… he had to try, didn’t he? He had to make that effort, because if he couldn’t then what was the point to any of it? 

When his legs tired, and his skin got cold enough to become numb, Draco changed direction and headed for home. He was late, and he wondered if Charlie was worried. 

Probably, though what he was worried about, Draco wasn’t sure. 

They needed to have a conversation though. 

Maybe that would make things clearer for Draco. 

… 

Draco stood in front of him, silently watching him. His skin was pink from the outside chill, and on any other night, Charlie would have tugged him closer, would have hugged him tight to help warm him up. 

This night he didn’t, unsure of his welcome. 

“You’re a serial killer,” Draco whispered. “I… don’t know what to do with that.” 

Charlie swallowed hard. That was the first time it had ever been stated as fact. Charlie knew what he was but to hear it said like that… it was unsettling. 

“I’m sorry,” Charlie replied quietly. 

“Are you?” 

Charlie tilted his head. “I’m not sorry that those people are dead,” he admitted. “But I’m truly sorry for the consequences on you for my actions. I never… I would never want to hurt you, Draco. No matter what else I’ve done, or has happened in our lives, I’ve never stopped loving you. I never will, no matter the outcome of this.” 

“I should arrest you,” Draco replied after a long pregnant pause. “But I can’t, and I think you knew that. I think you took advantage of the knowledge that I love you more than I love my job. That I need you more than I need my morality.” 

“I…” Charlie didn’t know what to say. “I would fully understand if you… if this isn’t something you can… if you can’t live with what I’ve done. I’ll never ever blame you for anything that comes of any of this, I swear it, Draco. This isn’t… none of this is on you. This is my… I did this.” 

Draco nodded. “Walburga Black… you didn’t intend to kill her, did you?” 

Charlie shook his head. “No. That… I didn’t set out to be a murderer. It… happened, and afterwards it felt… it felt like I’d done the world a favour. I felt  _ useful  _ again, like I was making the world a better place.” 

Draco closed his eyes and sighed. “You’ve never not been useful, you prick.” 

Charlie didn’t know what else he could say, so he didn’t say anything. After a long minute, which felt more like an hour, Draco opened his eyes and looked at him. 

“You can’t keep doing this. You… please, Charlie. Stop. I can’t… I won’t lose you to this, not now, but you can’t…” 

“I promise,” Charlie vowed. “I promise, no more.” 

Draco swallowed hard and nodded. “I love you. More than… More than the need to do the right thing, I guess.” 

… 

**_Two Years Later_ **

… 

The grounds were filled with people. Family and friends, and people who wanted to see them succeed. Draco smiled from his place by the barbecue, as Charlie moved from group to group, accepting their congratulations and praise. 

Following Draco’s realisation, and the subsequent conversation, they’d sat down together many times to try and work out a plan that would allow them to continue their life. They moved, selling their first house and buying one in a new town. 

Draco quit the force, citing stress as the main contributing factor, along with a wish to spend more time at home with his husband. Whenever he saw Harry afterwards, the man often had a glint in his eyes that told Draco he knew more than he was letting on, but not once did he ever say anything. 

Draco was more than grateful for that. 

Together, they planned and they worked and this was the culmination of that. 

_ Charlie’s Home For Abused Dogs _ . 

Padfoot was in his element, though Draco was firm that he was the only dog allowed in their private home on the grounds. The rest were to remain in their kennels at night, lest Draco never get a decent sleep again. He was used to Padfoot using him as a pillow, but to hell if he was going to be buried in a pile of fur every night. 

Charlie took the moment to look over at him, and Draco couldn’t stop himself from smiling when he saw the genuine happiness on his husband’s face. It had taken a while, but Draco had chosen to trust that he’d keep his word. 

And he had. They were happy. 

What more could Draco ask for? 

… 

_ He stared at his hands in horror.  _

_ He’d been doing so well.  _

_ Going cold turkey hadn’t been the easiest thing, but with Draco at his side, with Draco to fight for, he’d been living without the rush of knowing he’d removed a blight from the world.  _

_ He’d been… happy.  _

_ And yet… the rush, the unshakable feeling of victory… he’d missed this.  _

_ The body of the man lay prone on the floor, his dog lead dropped by his side.  _

_ Charlie slipped the pocket knife from his pocket, there by chance from his work on the house that morning and turned it over in his fingers. He’d never used a knife before. Blood was a stain he didn’t need to deal with.  _

_ But… he’d never used a knife before, so if he did so now… Draco… Loyal, trusting, Draco… he wouldn’t connect the cases. It’d look like a drug deal gone wrong, or a robbery or…  _

_ Charlie smiled to himself. He’d  _ missed  _ this feeling.  _

_ And… What Draco didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right?  _


End file.
